You Put Your Arms Around Me and I'm Home
by LadySolitaire83
Summary: Sherlock just wants physical attention from Molly, his next fix, his best friend to like him again, and Culverton Smith's downfall––not necessarily in that order, but mostly Molly. But she insists on hissing at him about his plan to save John and take down a serial killer. What would it take for Molly to at least hug Sherlock? Also a prompt fill for mizjoely on Tumblr.


**YOU PUT YOUR ARMS AROUND ME AND I'M HOME**

 **25 November 2017**

 **A/N: I hope it's not too late to post a Sherlolly Hugfest fic! I was going to post this earlier this week, but my brain kept nope-ing out of working on this fic for some reason. *shrugs* But it's here now!**

 **Also, nearly two months ago, MizJoely asked me to write a fic with the sentence, "Don't be an ass," from a four-word prompts list. I changed the last word to its British English spelling; I hope that's OK!**

 **I might have made this angstier than I intended. Sorry not sorry.**

 **This is also related to my WIP, _His Constant_ , and _Babysitting_ (SAW 2017, Day 6). Maybe I should create a series for this fictional universe? *assumes Sherlock's thinking pose***

 **The title is a line from Christina Perri's _Arms_.**

 **The rating is for some suggestive stuff, really mild references to drug abuse/addiction, and some cursing.**

 **Hope y'all enjoy this one**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

Sitting on the trolley, Sherlock rolled his eyes half-heartedly as Molly hissed at him about his plan. Part of him wished that he had never told her what she needed to know, because he was barely high enough to endure her anger and disappointment. Also his high was starting to wear off, and resisting the urge to snap at her was taking all he had. _Just please stop talking and finish this bloody unnecessary medical examination already!_ He had a pretty good idea of how messed up he was anyway. But either she was too angry to hear the plea in his head or she simply ignored it, because she did not stop. He could not help but admire, though, how she could take his plan apart and thoroughly examine him at the same time.

Another part of him wished that she would just trust him and believe him when he said that everything would be fine. _Surely she sees that I need her touch and not her anger?_ Glancing at his watch, he reckoned that they might have enough time to snog. He doubted that she would consent to anything beyond that, but he longed for her. It had only been a month since they last slept together, but it felt like a year to him. _A long kiss would make up for that lost month and should sustain me until we can be together again._ But saving John Watson and stopping Culverton Smith from killing anybody else mattered more than indulging his own desires. And he hated to admit it, but he was a little afraid of Molly right now. _Don't want to be punched if I dared to interrupt her._ So, for his own sake, he buried his longing for her touch deep within his mind and heart.

She cleared her throat and planted her fists on her hips. "Please undo your trousers." She rolled her eyes when he playfully smirked. "Don't be an arse. It's time to cough, Sherlock."

He complied and suppressed a moan when she slid her gloved hand into his pants. Wincing when she cupped his scrotum a tad too tightly, he turned his head to the side and coughed. His heart raced at the thought of her hand elsewhere, but she withdrew her hand without even giving his length the slightest nudge. He sulked even more when she resumed hissing at him instead. He opened his mouth to tell her to calm down, but her icy glare instantly shut him up.

He finally exhaled in relief when she stopped talking a few minutes later. _Time we could've spent snogging._ Ignoring that thought, he raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you finished?"

She heaved a heavy sigh as she stared at him, the worry, disappointment, and sadness in her big brown eyes causing his chest to tighten. "For now," she growled as she pulled off her gloves and binned them.

"Would you calm the hell down?" He hoped that his relaxed tone and brief laugh reassured her somehow. "I'm taking _just_ enough so my vital organs wouldn't fail. Wiggins had the dosage under control. _I_ have it under control. You lot really needn't worry about me."

She grabbed his hand, and he could not resist the urge to curl his fingers around her small ones. "Stop giving us reasons to worry then."

He shook his head and chuckled. "Molly, you wouldn't have to worry if you'd just trust my plans."

"Not after Magnussen." She released a tired sigh. "Mary wouldn't like seeing you like this."

He rolled his eyes again, no longer half-hearted this time, and leant forward. " _She_ wanted _me_ to get John to forgive me, to trust me again. _She_ told _me_ to save him. _She_ told _me_ to go to hell to achieve that. I'm _simply_ following her instructions." Sniffling, he straightened up and folded his arms across his chest.

"I doubt she'd want you to _actually_ kill yourself though."

"Of course I know that!" he replied irritably. "She wouldn't want me to kill myself after she died to save my life. But she's not here anymore, is she? _Is she?_ " he growled.

His chest ached when she squeezed his hand.

"You're right." She sniffled softly and wiped a stray tear with her free hand. "But you're dealing with a serial killer––someone who has no scruples about murdering people, let alone a famous consulting junkie."

"He wouldn't be a serial killer if he had any."

Molly stared at him, tears welling up in her eyes again. "You want him to kill you, don't you?" She cupped his face and forced him to look her in the eye. "Tell me the truth, Sherlock. Do you really want to be his next victim? Would you really rather die at the hands of a serial killer than forgive yourself for Mary's death?"

He gave her a bitter look. "And what if I do? Molly, I made a vow to protect the Watsons, and I _failed_. I didn't stop provokingMrs Norbury when Mary warned me. I could've, but I didn't! A small voice in my head told me to stop, but I ignored it. So because of _me_ , Mary––my _friend_ ––died. Because of _me_ , John lost the woman he loves. Because of _me_ , Rosie lost her mother." He sniffed and shook his head, hoping that it would keep his own tears from falling. "I deserve to die."

"It's not like we'll get Mary back if you died." She leant closer when he said nothing. "She'll still be gone, and _you'll_ be gone. You said you're doing this for John, yeah?" At his nod, she pursed her lips and continued. "Try to put yourself in John's shoes and try to imagine how he'd feel if two of the people he loves the most were dead. Consider what he'll do if he lost his wife _and_ his best friend within the same year." She removed her hands from his face and threw them both up in exasperation. "Or did you already run the scenario in your head, and you ultimately decided that Rosie would turn out fine after all that?"

He lowered his eyes, not even surprised anymore that she had figured that out. "In most scenarios, he'd lose control of his drinking and would probably lose Rosie." He lifted his head and shrugged. "But my brother would arrange it so that you and Mrs Hudson would share custody of her, at least until John gets his shit together."

"And what if he _doesn't_ get his shit together?" She narrowed her eyes and balled her hands into fists. "And what if your death kills Mrs Hudson too? Huh? What then?"

His heart ached at the thought of his beloved landlady dying, but he gave her another indifferent shrug. "Please. She thought I was dead for two years and she was fine. She'd live if I died for real. She can even move in with you to help take care of Rosie."

She shook her head and wiped the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Fine. Why don't I marry Mycroft as well?" Sniffling, she gave him a mirthless smile. "I'm sure your parents would be delighted."

His eyes widened for a nanosecond before narrowing. _No! That is utterly unacceptable!_ But he schooled his expression into an unconcerned one before she could see his pain and outrage at the idea. "Fine. Go ahead!" He looked at her arched eyebrow and knew that he had failed. "I hope you're prepared to be in a Victorian arranged marriage situation. I mean, he will _never_ be able to satisfy you like I do. Have fun raising Rosie with him!"

Before Molly could answer, a knock came from the cab. "We're here, Dr Hooper."

She wiped a stray tear from her cheek and sniffed. "Thanks, Cillian. We shouldn't be here long. Um, why don't you and Hank relax for a bit? Maybe get some coffee or snacks? Thanks, guys!" she sweetly called out as both men left.

Sherlock grabbed the royal blue dressing gown lying next to him on the trolley. "Ready?"

She held up her index finger before taking her handbag from the corner and reapplying her make-up. "What do you want me to tell John?" she asked while redoing her ponytail.

He shrugged. "Whatever you feel you ought to tell him."

She nodded and gave him a tight smile. "So the truth then. About the state of your health, of course," she added when he opened his mouth to protest. "I won't ruin your plan, no matter how risky and dangerous it is or how much I hate it."

"It's best to stay angry with me," he said as he pulled his dressing gown on. "It'll be more believable for John."

"And more dramatic, I'm sure," she retorted. She reached for the door handle but paused, ultimately dropping her hand. Holding his gaze, she stepped closer to him. "Oh, Sherlock," she said before wrapping her arms round him.

He stood frozen, even when she gave him a little squeeze. He let out an involuntary sigh, though, when she pressed a cheek to his chest.

"She was my friend too, you know." The anger in her voice was gone and was now replaced by deep sorrow. "Not a day goes by that I don't think about her. I miss her too, and I sometimes wish she'd just faked her death like you did. I like to think that she's alive somewhere in Asia or in America, you know, just biding her time until she could come back. She'd return after a few years, and then we, especially John, would be happy again."

He finally hugged her back. "I wish that were the case as well, but I'm afraid her death was real."

Her little disappointed sigh made him smile a bit. "I know. But a grieving friend can dream." She lifted her head from his chest and furrowed her eyebrows. "Has anyone hugged you since Mary died?"

He quickly searched his Mind Palace for the answer before shaking his head. "Nope," he replied, popping the 'p,' as was his wont. "At least no one that matters. Mycroft merely looked at me sympathetically before leaving the crime scene. Lestrade only squeezed my shoulder after he dropped me off at Baker Street. Mrs Hudson almost crushed my hand when I told her what happened the day she came back from Corfu. And you were too busy caring for Rosie after John handed her off. Although, a woman from John and Mary's clinic, for some reason, tried to hug me after the funeral. Thank God I fended her off."

She giggled at that, and he could not help but chuckle. "She probably has a crush on you."

Instead of answering, he gently cupped her face and lowered his face towards hers until their foreheads touched. He wanted to reassure her that things would be all right, that he would be fine; but his growing need for a fix and his constant need to protect her made him swallow the right words.

"Please don't die," she whispered, her resigned tone making his heart ache, nearly causing him to rethink his plan.

But before he could answer, a voice right outside the ambulance notified someone, perhaps Culverton Smith's personal assistant, that the car transporting John was a minute away.

To his dismay, she pulled away from him, the anger and disappointment back in her eyes. "Because if you die, I will bring you back from the dead just so I can kill you myself." At that, she forcefully opened the ambulance doors and jumped off. She asked Cillian and Hank, who had just returned with their coffees, to help her open the doors out. After telling them to resume their break, she sat on the back step and stared ahead.

Sighing, Sherlock flopped down on the trolley. Not for the first time, he cursed John and the universe for ruining the moment between him and Molly.

* * *

 _I hope some of y'all noticed the cut lines from the Sherlolly Slapfest scene in_ His Last Vow _. Obviously, I changed the dialogue a bit to match the circumstances. But I've been wanting to use those lines since the_ Sherlock: Chronicles _book was released._

 _I was watching_ Once Upon a Time _when I was finishing the first draft, so I took the paramedics' names from Captain Believer. Hehehehehehehehehehe..._

 _So what do y'all think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


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